


The Blood Mage's Sacrifice

by HiddenTohru



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-07
Updated: 2010-09-07
Packaged: 2017-10-11 14:21:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/113330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiddenTohru/pseuds/HiddenTohru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The unnamed blood mage from the tower faces her death at last.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Blood Mage's Sacrifice

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written in February 2010.

She had known they would come for her, sooner or later.

At first she had spent every waking moment looking over her shoulder, expecting to see an army of Templars bearing down on her, as if the Maker's own vengeance rested on her head. As the days and then weeks had passed, she began to hope that she had gotten away. The Blight was a fairy tale, she thought, unimportant and overblown, and surely they would have come for her sooner, and yet there was still part of her that was unsure.

As time continued to pass, as weeks turned to months, she realized that they had not come because the Blight was real, and bearing down on Ferelden as she had once feared the Templars bearing down on her. More than once she fought off a patrol of Darkspawn with little more than her wits and her mind control magic, and staggered away barely alive from those battles. She had always been skilled at her craft, and enjoyed the taste of people's minds when she controlled them, each a different vintage, like fine Orlesian wine, but the darkspawn tasted like the bitter ashes of bloody, burned remains. There was something foul about controlling them, but she did it because she had to, to survive.

She heard about him, the Grey Warden who sacrificed himself to save Ferelden and end the Blight. She had seen him only briefly, and then through a haze of fear and pain. She realized then that they hadn't come for her yet because the Circle had been needed in that final battle, the mages pouring out their all to help defeat the Archdemon, and the Templars had their hands full keeping the mages and the Circle safe. In the months following, she began to anticipate again, and flinched every time an unfamiliar shadow or an unclear voice came to her, but still they had not come.

She had meant it, when she said she wanted to repent. Even though she loved blood magic, for the taste of people's minds, she knew she had done wrong, turning against the Circle and following the madman Uldred. She had scarce been able to believe it when he let her go, after all her crimes, but she had stumbled away and fled. Once the fury of war and the bleakness of the Blight began to recede, she had made her mission to help the homeless orphans whose parents had died or abandoned them in the midst of the Blight. She had sought them out, these children, and other adults to help her, and had set up a farmhold where they could grow together, learn how to fend for themselves and grow up strong. They knew she was a mage, and some of the adults suspected, but she did not practice her forbidden crafts anymore, and so they were only whispers.

Still, she knew the Templars would come someday. They had her phylactery, and once the Circle was deemed safe and everything set to order, they would seek her out. They would inspect the hold to match every dead, charred corpse to a darkened vial, and hers would shine like a beacon of red light, and they would know she still lived, and had escaped. She had been close to Uldred, everyone knew that, and so she would be hunted.

When it happened, she did not hesitate. She heard them coming, marching in their terrible, heavy armor, as if the world itself was tumbling down upon her, and she sighed softly, readying herself to meet her fate. The children huddled around her, but she handed them off to the others quickly and quietly, as efficient as she had always been. When she opened the door, she was fairly dazzled by the light of all that silver armor, such as she hadn't seen in almost two years. She did not hesitate, then. Stepping into the bright sunshine, she inclined her head in defeat, and the captain moved forward.

As he raised his sword, one of the youngest children broke from the doorway and ran to her, crying her name. She gathered him in her arms and looked at the captain, who stayed his blade, unwilling to harm an innocent. She hugged the boy tightly, and whispered his name, and then walked him back to the house and handed him to a young woman who she had begun to think of as a younger sister. She touched the girl's face, so sadly, and then returned to the Templar captain.

There were no more interruptions now. The captain read her the litany of her misdeeds in a low voice, hardly loud enough to carry to the house, and she inwardly thanked him for that kindness. He glanced toward the house once, only once, as he raised his sword again. She kneeled, accepting her defeat, and heard someone sob as the sword severed her life.

 


End file.
